


Lessons Learned

by GloriousGoblinQueen



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Other, Physical Abuse, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/pseuds/GloriousGoblinQueen
Summary: There are a few very important lessons Catra learned under Shadow Weaver's "care".





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViolentFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentFlowers/gifts).



#### 1\. _Tread softly in the presence of monsters_

Catra’s got the best view of her friend from up here, clinging to the exposed pipes running along the ceiling. Adora should know by now where Catra likes to hide, and maybe she does, but she’s sure doing a good job pretending she doesn’t, looking all around like she has no idea where Catra could be. She’s even calling her name, like Catra’s really gonna respond and give away her hiding spot that easy.

And then Adora looks up, right at her, like she knew she was up there the whole time. Oops.

Catra drops from the ceiling, totally trusting Adora will catch her. The two of them end up in a tangled, giggling heap on the floor. Catra knows she’s ‘it’ now, but that’s okay. The only thing she’s better at than hiding is hunting, so she knows she’ll find Adora in no time.

She counts down from 10 to 0, listening for Adora’s footsteps the whole time. She thinks she knows where Adora went, and as soon as she opens her eyes, she’s off. The long fluorescently lit halls of the Fright Zone are labyrinthine, and would be maddeningly confusing to and outsider. But Catra knows them like the back of her hand, and Adora’s not going to stay hidden for long.

A few minutes into the hunt, she catches Adora’s scent. She gets on all fours and takes off, full-speed ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Adora trying to get away. They both rocket down the hallway, laughing their heads off, not realizing they’ve passed by Shadow Weaver’s room.

Catra misses her by mere inches, and chases her back the way they came. She can practically feel the back of Adora’s shirt in her hands when she freezes in place suddenly. The eerie, familiar, bordering on painful crackling over her skin tells her it’s Shadow Weaver’s magic that’s doing this.

“Catra. What have I told you about making so much noise when I’m trying to concentrate on my spells?” Shadow Weaver’s question isn’t a question at all, nor a statement. Rather, it’s a promise of the punishment that Catra knows is coming.

Adora turns around, and whatever mirth she’d had falls from her face when she sees Catra being dragged back towards Shadow Weaver by the witch’s magic. Catra can see and hear Adora beg and plead with their guardian not to punish her, they were only playing, they didn’t _mean_ to be so loud. She’d tell Adora not to bother if the magic holding her still weren’t silencing her as well.

Eventually, Shadow Weaver manages to scare Adora off (only by threatening Catra even more), and Catra is left staring into the witch’s terrifying red gaze.

A few hours later (how many, she couldn’t say, but this isn’t the first time she’s lost track of time in Shadow Weaver’s room), Catra’s standing in Adora’s embrace, trying very hard not to flinch when the girl presses against the many bruises she’s covered in now. Adora does her best to be gentle; she can see a couple of blue-purple splotches along Catra’s neck and shoulders, and doesn’t want to make things worse. They both know there’s more to be found under Catra’s clothes, but they won’t think too much about that for now.

#### 2\. _Your body is property of the Hoarde_

Catra has Adora in a rather…compromising position, to put it mildly. They’re both completely bare from the waist down, and Adora’s shirt is undone, exposing her breasts to the world. Catra’s got herself slotted against Adora, one knee braced in a clawed hand, rutting against her like an animal. There’s not much finesse to it, but Adora doesn’t seem to mind, if her clenched fists gripping the sheets of her modest bed are anything to go by. Still, it’s the third time this week, and they could do _so_ much better than unimaginative frotting against each other.

Shadow Weaver dismisses the image from her scrying pool with a flick of her hand. She thinks it’s about time she had a talk with her two star pupils.

* * *

They get no warning before being poofed into Shadow Weaver’s room. Adora winds up strapped to a chair with cables that tighten against her whenever she struggles to get free. She panics when she can’t immediately see where Catra ended up at.

Shadow Weaver’s voice comes from several feet in front of her. “Normally, I wouldn’t waste my time with such pedestrian affairs. But I’m feeling generous, and while I expect such low effort from certain individuals,” she gestures to the darkness behind her, though Adora can’t see it, “you shouldn’t have to put up with it, Adora.”

The lights come on, and Adora is greeted with the sight of Catra being suspended from the ceiling by rope, her arms tied to her sides. She’s putting up a hell of a fight, but it’s clear she won’t be breaking out of her binds. Even more worrying, she’s naked from the waist down, her legs held spread by a thick, black tentacle wrapped around each thigh. Every so often, the tips of more tentacles peek up from a hole in the floor.

“Really, you two. If you’re going to do _that_ , you should step it up! You think you have any idea what true pleasure is?”

At Shadow Weaver’s command, one tentacle stretches up from the floor and wraps itself loosely around Catra’s waist. The end of it starts writhing against her knee and creeps toward her vulva. She jumps when it brushes against her lips, smearing something wet against her. Trying to close her legs is futile, and the appendage keeps writhing incessantly against her, trying its best to work it’s way in.

Shadow Weaver grips Catra’s chin and forces Catra to look at her. “This will go much easier if you stop putting up a fight, you know.”

Just as Catra’s about to make some smart-ass retort, the tentacle finally works past her labia to slide across her clitoris. She seizes up at the sensation and throws her head back, letting out a short, shocked moan. Shadow Weaver caresses Catra’s jawline, then her throat with a thumb.

“You and I both know you can’t hold out like this forever, Catra. Besides, you’d rather Adora see you enjoy it, wouldn’t you?”

Catra snaps her head up, looking for Adora. She spots her still struggling to break free of the cables somehow. Her stomach sinks to her feet in mortification. Her first instinct is to start thrashing around again, not wanting Adora to see her like this. Thinking about Shadow Weaver’s words, however, makes her wonder if she’ll even be able to get out of this at all.

“Not that it matters either way,” Shadow Weaver says. “The wetness you feel smearing on you is an aphrodesiac, so you’ll enjoy this whether you want to or not.”

As if on cue, the tentacle rubbing her starts to slip inside her. Whatever fluid it’s secreting makes the penetration easier than it would have been otherwise, but Catra still tries to pull away from it. The worst part is that she can feel herself start to react to it, wanting to rock her hips against it even as she tries to get away. It’s a maddening sensation, one she’s starting to crave.

From where Adora’s sitting, she’s got a good view of the tentacle entering her friend. It undulates, expands and shrinks in a rhythm, working it’s way up and around inside her.

“Are you paying attention, Adora?” Shadow Weaver asks. She’s pleased when Adora’s attention snaps to her. “Good. There are a few additions I’d like to make to your education with regards to sex, and I _will_ be testing you afterwards. Of course, I can do the lesson over if necessary, but I hate repeating myself.”

#### 3\. _Only you can get you out of trouble_

Another day, another group training session without Adora around. Catra’s got no idea where her friend has gone, whether she’s still in the forest chasing after that dumb sword. All she knows is that Shadow Weaver has been riding her tail hard about Adora’s whereabouts. Catra’s a good friend, though; she promised not to tell anyone where Adora had gone, and she’s kept that promise faithfully.

But it’s really fucking hard sometimes.

It’s hard when the others tease her about eating (or doing anything, really) alone, asking her, “hey Catra, where’s your shadow?” She hates that she’s asked herself the same thing.

It’s hard when Shadow Weaver gets her robes in a knot and decides to really put the iron to her, using dark magic to try and pull knowledge from Catra. Getting launched into a wall, being hung upside down, that’s one thing. Having Shadow Weaver focus on her with the sole intention of making her talk, of forcing the words out of her mind and past her lips against her will? That’s something else entirely.

It’s hard late at night when she climbs into Adora’s bed because the scent of her sheets is the only thing that will help her get to sleep. Having a liability like that would make her a laughingstock, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed about it herself, but she needs it a little more than she needs her sense of dignity.

It’s especially hard now, in today’s training simulation, when all the other trainees (save Kyle) have decided to gang up on her. Probably payback for all the times she mouthed off to them, knowing Adora was by her side, ready to help her out if she dug herself a little too deep. Except, Adora’s not here now, hasn’t been for a few days. These assholes are running her ragged, taking about as many shots at her as they do at the actual targets. And teamwork? Forget about it: the other recruits will gladly help each other out, but if Catra gets in a bind, she’s on her own.

She takes a hit to the shoulder from one of the dummy enemies and goes flying. Thanks to her reflexes, she manages to mostly right herself, and only ends up sliding on all fours into the wall. Just as she gets up, the training drone that shot her picks her up and hems her up against the wall. Even better, the thing’s got her by the throat, meaning she’s got to think fast before she’s down for the count.

Now, this would be about the time Adora would come swooping in to save her (even though she _totally_ has control over the situation), then smile at her all smug and cute and everything. In fact, Catra’s about to call out for her right now (since Adora’s gonna come anyway, definitely not because she needs help or anything).

Then she remembers Adora’s not there.

Adora’s not around, and the drone currently choking her out isn’t about to get tired anytime soon. A quick look to the side shows her that the others are either too busy with their own fights or watching from the sidelines. Catra’s on her own this time, and a cold, primal panic wells up in her.

Finally, her brain clicks back on. Tamping down the blind panic, she quits grabbing at the “hand” around her neck and starts kicking and punching at whatever parts of the drone she can reach. She fucks the things optics up royally, and puts several dents in its body before managing to find a weak point in the wrist joint. It drops her unceremoniously to the ground, and Catra wastes no time in getting up and beating the tar out of it. Several of the other recruits look on in shock and awe, but Catra’s too busy venting her spleen all over the decimated training drone to notice.

Everyone seems to give her a wide berth the rest of the day. Come bedtime, Catra almost takes her usual spot in Adora’s bed before hauling herself up to her own at the last moment. It feels weird, a little uncomfortable, but Adora’s bed doesn’t feel much better when Adora’s not in it. She makes herself not worry about it. Adora will come back from her weird field trip, and everything will be back to normal.

#### 4\. _Never turn your back on your enemy_

At the time, Catra had thought that the crunch of Shadow Weaver’s mask as it broke beneath her fist was the most satisfying experience of her life. It’s still on her top 10 list, but it pales in comparison now to seeing Shadow Weaver herself crumble when Hordak deposes her and makes Catra his second-in-command. Frankly, she’s just as shocked as the witch is, but there’s no way in hell she’s going to show it. She’s got an evil boss to make proud now, after all.

She takes her leave when Hordak dismisses them, but Shadow Weaver seems determined to have the last word. “How,” she grinds out, voice sounding like gravel scraping against the ground. “After all my years of service, how can Hordak just sweep me aside in favor of a _mongrel_ like you? How could I have let my power be taken by _you_ of all people?”

Catra could make some awesome speech, really rub Shadow Weaver’s nose in her misfortune. She decides the old witch isn’t worth it. “It was one of the first lessons you taught me when I was old enough to fight. Looks like it didn’t stick too well with you, though.”

Shadow Weaver practically growls in irritation. “What on earth are you talking about, Catra?”

Catra turns to leave. She says over her shoulder, “‘Never turn your back on your enemy’ is what you told me. You worked so hard to beat me down, you didn’t even realize you were making me stronger the whole time.”

As Catra walks back to where the Black Garnet is held, she lets herself enjoy the sound of Shadow Weaver screaming herself hoarse in rage.


End file.
